


A Kindness

by exyking



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Dark Odin, Dark Thor (Marvel), Incest, M/M, Mind Break, Odin watches, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Slavery, Sibling Incest, Victim submits to rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-31 12:19:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15119273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exyking/pseuds/exyking
Summary: “Your actions have left no other choice. What you have been allowed is a kindness.”“A kindness,” Loki repeats. “A kindness to be stripped of everything. To be made nothing.”Loki laughs.But then, Thor’s fingers are moving once more, and the last ties of Loki’s pants come undone, the loose fabric peeling slowly down his thighs as gravity beckons it, and Loki’s laughter chokes him.





	A Kindness

**Author's Note:**

  * For [smaragdbird](https://archiveofourown.org/users/smaragdbird/gifts).



> I tried my best to be loyal to the prompt, but I really had to wrestle this damn fic right to the finish line. I hope it manages to hit one or two of your kinks, dear recip!

He does not believe it.

 

No matter what he has done, no matter the extent of his infractions, no matter what masquerades of familial attachment that he has dissolved through his actions, this cannot be his fate.

 

He refuses to believe it.

 

The dungeon is cold, and Jötunn or not, his Aesir skin feels the chill. It does not help that they have stripped him of clothing. It does not help that they have chained him up like a dog, hands bound above his head with chains that silence his magic, refusing him any semblance of comfort or dignity.

 

This is surely just to scare him. A show of action, to satiate the bloodlust of the Council-- meant to humiliate him, humble him, but nothing more. Loki could bear this farce, for the simple threat of death as his only alternative. He had lived long enough to know a few days of humiliation was sometimes a necessity. Because they wouldn’t.

 

They  _ wouldn’t _ .

 

There is the distant sound of footsteps-- two pairs, maybe more, it was hard to tell in the echochamber of the dark, dank dungeon. Loki looks up, forcing his weary muscles to move as he straightens himself from his slump. He refuses to let them see him cowed by this. He refuses to let them see him weak.

 

The sound of the key turning in the lock is almost deafeningly loud. He betrays no reaction as his false father and brother moved into his small dungeon cell, one after the other. The door clangs shut behind them, and the lock turns again.

 

There is silence.

 

Were Loki not gagged, he might have spat some barbed insults at them. Had they come to mock him, in his humiliation? Had they come to twist this cruel knife of shame? How like Thor, to gloat. How satisfying it must feel, to stand so far above Loki, with their father at his side. How  _ proud-- _

 

“Loki.”

 

Thor looks at him, bright blue eyes something mournful. Always the better of them, his brother. Loki cannot stand the pity in them.

 

His brother moves towards him, setting his precious norns-forsaken hammer by his feet. He reaches for Loki’s face, and Loki refuses to flinch away, though every instinct in his body yearns to do so. Thor unlatches the gag around his mouth, pulling the unforgiving metal free and dropping it to the ground. He makes to touch Loki’s face again, perhaps to soothe the reddened skin chafed raw by the harsh metal.

 

Loki spits at him.

 

Thor flinches. He wipes his hand over his face, looking down at the fingers wetted by Loki’s insult. When he looked back up, some of the pity in his eyes has gone.

 

“Have you come to gloat, brother mine?” Loki snarls. His voice is dry from lack of water, harsh from misuse. “It should be so satisfying, I imagine, to see how far I’ve fallen.”

 

Thor’s face is perfectly blank. He wipes his hand on his trousers, looks Loki up and down, and then turns back to his father. “Father--”

 

Loki sneers. “You cannot even properly gloat without father’s approval, can you,  _ brother _ ? How could you hope to be King burdened by such glorious incompetence.”

 

Thor does not rise to his bait. He does not even so much as glance in Loki’s direction.

 

Odin’s single eye fixes on Thor. “There can be no compromise.”

 

Loki looks between them at this exchange, realising suddenly the strangeness of Odin standing sentinel by the doors, something that should have been beneath him, surely, had Thor’s purpose merely been to beg or gloat over his brother. 

 

Odin’s eye turns on Loki unflinchingly.

 

The pleading expression on Thor’s face crumples. For a moment, he looks devastated, a sight that Loki has seen on his face so rarely that it truly gives him pause. “I am truly sorry, brother,” Thor says. “But there is no other way.”

 

It takes a long moment for Thor’s words to sink in.

 

Loki’s first reaction is incredulity. They would play such a joke on him now, having already brought Loki to his lowest? But the conflict on Thor’s face is genuine, the tone of his remorse contrite. He is serious, Loki realises. Sudden panic flares in Loki’s chest, hot and harsh. But he can’t mean…

 

“ _ No _ .” The word escapes Loki before he can contain it.

 

Thor does not answer. He moves behind Loki, out of his line of sight. Loki resists the urge to twist in his bondage, to keep his eyes on Thor like one might a predator, too proud to betray his rising terror. He feels Thor’s ungainly fingers move to the ties of his prison shift.

 

“ _ Stop _ .” His broken voice betrays his growing fear, and Loki  _ hates  _ it. “You cannot do this!”

 

But his protestations do not halt his brothers hands, and he felt the laces begin to come undone.

 

The panic simmers, bubbling over, spilling out into his body like fire. “I am a god! I am still of your house,  _ father _ , you cannot do this to me!”

 

But Odin says nothing.

 

The shirt falls away, crumpling to the damp, cobbled floor. Loki shivers as his chest is bared, feeling the hair on his body rising against the chill, feeling his nipples stiffen into painful peaks at the penetrating cold. 

  
Thor begins untying the laces of his pants.

 

“This is insane! This-- you---”

 

“Loki.” Thor halts as his father speaks, fingers stilling where they hold the flimsy string of the ragged trousers. “The sentence has been passed. Did you think we would not carry it out?”

 

Loki had thought that. Of  _ course  _ he had thought that. Odin must have known, he of all people would have known Loki’s mind on this. Loki is forced to believe, then, that this farce, this false sense of hope he’d been allowed for but hours before this inevitable, crushing betrayal was  _ calculated.  _ What other way to ensure the maximum infliction of  _ suffering. _

 

“Your actions have left no other choice. What you have been allowed is a kindness.”

 

“A kindness,” Loki repeats. “A kindness to be stripped of everything. To be made nothing.”

 

Loki laughs.

 

But then, Thor’s fingers are moving once more, and the last ties of Loki’s pants come undone, the loose fabric peeling slowly down his thighs as gravity beckons it, and Loki’s laughter chokes him.

 

He is naked now, strung up like a pig for slaughter, with the eyes of his father and brother on him. He feels Thor brush the skin of his back, low down, above the swell of his ass, and Loki kicks out at him. Thor weathers the blow in silence, but his retaliation is swift. The slap that lands on Loki’s ass stings. The full weight of Thor’s strength is behind it, and had Loki not been strung up, he would have been sent flying across the room.

 

The strangled sound of pain Loki makes is humiliating.

 

“This is what is best for you, my son,” Odin says. “One day, you will accept it.”

 

Loki bares his teeth. “ _ Never _ .”

 

Odin’s eye fixes on Loki once more and, for the first time in his long life, Loki does not recognise the light that glints behind it. Cannot comprehend, from knowledge gained in those brief glimpses he has trained himself to recognise, any trace of the thoughts that exist in the Allfather’s mind.

 

“We shall see,” Odin says. And then he gestures to Thor.

 

Before a single sound of protest can escape Loki’s lips, Thor kicks his legs apart. Loki’s arms are pulled taut above his head at the sudden shift, nearly jolting his shoulders of out their sockets. He hisses at the sharp pain, trying to get his feet back under him, but before he can something is fastened around his ankle. Loki looks down, panic reaching a crescendo, to see a ring of unforgiving silver clasped tight around his ankle. The runes on its surface flare bright gold as the ends of the metal seal shut.

 

Loki has seen the like of it before, albeit only in dusty old cabinets, deliberately forgotten. It has been millenia beyond count since such a thing has been inflicted on another living creature.

 

“I see you recognise it.”

 

Loki’s eyes snap up. Odin’s expression is infuriatingly blank, but his eye  _ lingers. _

 

“I trust that you know what it means.”

 

“This is sick.”

 

And it is. Sick, to use his heritage against him like this. Sick to mock him with the humiliation of his biology, to invoke something so ancient and so heinous it has been expunged from the very annals of their own history. It threatens to steal the very breath from him; the calculated cruelty of this. The deliberate manner in which the Allfather has determined he is to be tortured, for the rest of eternity, for the crime of being only who he is, and was always meant to be.

 

For, they are Jotunn slave cuffs. Magic binding, ancient slave cuffs that, when sealed, when the bonding ceremony is complete, Loki will never be able to remove. Cuffs that will bind him, for the rest of his life, to the man who holds the chain.

 

With renewed panic, Loki tries to kick out at Thor again, who is crouched beside him, but just as quickly, Thor grabs his ankle, attaching a short length of chain to a small ring on the side of the cuff, and bolts it down to the floor.

 

In short order, despite Loki’s struggles, his other ankle encounters the same fate.

 

Now, Loki is truly fucked.

 

He is spread wide and vulnerable, unable to close his legs or shield his nudity from view. His father stands before him, eyes feasting on every inch of his naked son, and Loki can feel the weight of his blue eyed gaze like it is a physical itch on his skin. The thought of it is shameful, it makes him feel sick to his core.

 

Then, Thor’s hand cups his ass.

 

“Do not touch me,” Loki snarls. He tries to twist away, but there is no give to his chains. “Get your hands off me!”

 

“Do not make this harder than it needs to be, brother,” Thor says, his voice soft. His hand roams over the swell of Loki’s ass, fingertips dipping just a little into the cleft.

 

“I’ll fucking  _ kill you Thor.  _ Stop!”

 

But Thor doesn’t stop. And neither does Odin stop him.

 

Thor’s fingers leave him suddenly, the absence of them almost more terrifying than their presence, and there is the sound of something being opened, a jar perhaps, before they return, now slick. Loki shudders at the sensation, nausea roiling in his belly as he realises his brother has slicked his fingers with lubrication.

 

It is that, more than anything else, that shatters the last vestiges of disbelief that Loki had been desperately clinging to. It is true. They are going to do this. Thor is going to fuck him,  _ rape  _ him, in order to claim Loki as his own. As his thrall. His slave.

 

And there is nothing Loki can do.

 

He tries to keep Thor out, to clench his muscles tight, but his brother will not be denied. His finger pushes hard against Loki’s hole, massaging in little circles to try and force the muscles into relaxing. He wiggles his finger against Loki, fingertip catching on the rim, sliding just that little inch inside.

 

The feeling of violation chills Loki to his core. “Get out!” Loki tries to close his legs, but there is no give to the chains. “Don’t-- Don’t--”

 

“Shhh.” Thor hushes him, and Loki’s stomach roils. “Let me make this easier for you, brother.”

 

Loki had thought that there could not possibly be anything worse than this, but that is before Thor spits on his hand, winds his arm around Loki’s body, and takes a hold of his cock.

 

Loki is soft of course, cock limp with disgust and shame and cold alike. Thor’s touch feels like a hot iron around his frozen length. It feels like electricity shooting up into his body, warming him from his gut. Loki wants to gag, but his cock betrays him. In Thor’s grip, it twitches.

 

The shock of that is enough that Loki loses his concentration, releasing the tension in the clenched muscles of his sphincter, and Thor pushes his finger inside.

 

Loki shudders violently, trying to arch away from Thor’s finger and finding himself only fucking forwards into Thor’s fist. He buries his face against his arm, denying them his expression of torment, trying to shield his face from his father’s sight. But, there is nowhere to hide from it. There is no running from this.

 

The knowledge that this is happening, whether Loki wants it or not, and that his father can bear to stand and watch, makes Loki want to scream. Anger threatens to choke him, tears of rage fill his eyes, and his chest begins to shake as he shudders around every breath. To be made so helpless, so powerless, to be defiled and degraded in such a disturbing manner, it feels impossible. It feels like the stuff of nightmares, such a thing cannot possibly be allowed to  _ be _ . But the reality of Thor’s finger stretching him open, forcing himself inside Loki’s body, is harsher than Loki can deny.

 

Loki rises to the tips of his toes to try and avoid the inevitable penetration as his brothers finger digs deeper inside him. Shameful sounds of pain and panic escape him in breathy pants; his brother’s finger is  _ huge _ , it alone feels like the size of a cock. It keeps pushing in, deeper and deeper, unhindered no matter how hard Loki tries to keep him out, until Loki can feel the palm of Thor’s hand cupping his ass.

 

“Good,” Thor praises him. “Relax, brother.”

 

Revulsion rises up so quickly in Loki’s gut that he nearly vomits. Instead, in near hysterical desperation, he slams his head back into Thor’s, smashing his nose with his thick skull. It works, because Thor grunts and stumbles back. The feeling of his finger being ripped unceremoniously out from Loki’s hole stings, but it is worth it to be free from the stretch. It is worth it to prove that he will not let them do this to him without a fight.

 

“Fitting that I, whom they always called so sick, so  _ depraved _ , stands the only one innocent of your repugnant desires,  _ brother _ ,” Loki taunts. “Fitting that the golden son was the true monster all along.”

 

It is a mistake, Loki quickly realises, to rile his brother up. Thor stalks around him, shoulders set in anger and moves in close to Loki’s face, ignoring the faint stream of blood trickling down his split nose. Thor grabs Loki’s face, the same finger that had been inside him pressing now into his cheek. Thor squeezes, grinding the bones of Loki’s jaw under his hand, and Loki jerks and writhes in his bond as it feels like Thor will surely crush his face under his unforgiving grip. Loki should have known that no good has ever come from riling up his brother.

 

“I did not do this,” Thor rages at him. “It was not I who--”

 

“Thor,” their father interrupts, and Thor stops squeezing before he can shatter Loki’s face, though the pain of his grip is still blinding. “You know where your efforts are better focused.”

 

It is good as a command, from the Allfather. As good as instructions. 

 

Loki thinks he’d rather have Thor crush his face.

 

Setting his jaw, Thor says, “Yes, father.”

 

Thor does not move behind him this time. Instead, his hand lingers on Loki’s face, his grip mercifully light, and keeps it raised towards him, so that Loki is left with little choice but to meet his brother’s eyes. The hardness of Thor’s so often warm, blue eyes is disturbing.

 

Thor fumbles in the pocket of his trousers, drawing forth a jar of oil. He tries to unstopper it with one hand, but the act proves beyond his dexterity.

 

And so Odin steps up to help.

 

He takes the jar from Thor’s hands, uncaps it, and tips the oil onto Thor’s flat palm. He watches Loki, as he does it. There is something in his eye that won’t let Loki look away.

 

The sight of Odin assisting Thor prepare for his defilement makes Loki want to laugh.

 

Thor’s hand returns to his ass, smearing slick as he searches blindly for Loki’s hole. It is a difficult angle, hard to penetrate Loki’s hole impeded by the cheeks of his ass. “Tilt your hips,” Thor demands.

 

Loki sneers as best he can, around his brothers hand. He is sure the fact that he would rather die is very adequately communicated in his glare.

 

“Don’t be difficult,” Thor growls. He slaps Loki’s ass, the sound of it utterly obscene as the oil splashes against his skin. It makes Loki jump, and he pushes forward into Thor, trying to escape the sting. It has only the effect of pushing his half hard cock into his brothers hip. Thor must feel it, because he is smirking suddenly.

 

“You like that?”

 

Another slap lands, on the crack of Loki’s ass this time, as far around as Thor can reach. It does not sting across his cheek so much this time, but the brute force of the collision still drives up inside him. He feels the ache of it settle in his bones, and to his horror, the deep throb of it makes his hole twitch. It makes his cock stir.

 

“You arch your back, or I won’t stop.” Thor’s ultimatum is punctuated by another slap.

 

Thor covers his mouth when Loki is too loud; grunting and crying out as each blow drives him to his toes. Loki endures another ten of these, each blow as hard as the last, before he breaks. He makes a muffled sound into Thor’s palm and, before another blow can land, he thrusts his hips back, sticking his ass out  _ obediently _ .

 

“Good,” Thor grunts.

 

Thor finds his hole with ease, and pushes his finger quickly inside. Loki quickly realises his mistake in remaining so stubborn so long, for all the oil Thor has coating his hand has mostly rubbed off in the process of his punishment. It means that when Thor’s finger pushes in, it is mostly dry. And it burns.

 

He whimpers pathetically into the muzzle of Thor’s hands, unable to stop himself. It does not stop Thor from pushing in a second finger. It does not stop him from teasing Loki’s rim with a third.

 

But Thor, perhaps most cruelly of all, doesn’t seem to wish Loki to simply suffer the indignity of violation. No, he wants Loki to  _ enjoy  _ it. He lets go of his brothers face and his hand travels down Loki’s throat, squeezing it briefly, perhaps just because he can, before travelling further. He smooths his broad palm over Loki’s heaving chest and finds a nipple, pebbled in the cold, and taps it. It is so sensitive that Loki jerks, half fucking himself on his brother’s fingers as he rides out the sharp sensation. It seems to satisfy Thor. He does it again. For a long time Thor squeezes and pinches and flicks at Loki’s nipples, all the while slowly and methodically fucking his fingers inside him.

 

By the time he pushes in the third, Thor seems to have grown bored of this; Loki’s grunts and groans and hisses too predictable, perhaps. Instead, as a distraction against the pain of the insertion, he cups Loki’s cock and squeezes.

 

Perhaps deliberately or not, with three fingers now thrusting inside his brother, Thor manages to brush against Loki’s prostate. The feeling is electric, painfully so, but it goes straight to Loki’s cock. It jerks in Thor’s grip, throbs as his prostate is stimulated.

 

Thor chuckles. “That’s it,” he says. “Just relax.”

 

Loki wants to fight back. He wants to smash his forehead against his brother’s, or lean forward and bite his nose clean off his face. But he just… he can’t. His entire body feels strangely boneless, like the very energy is being sucked out of him amidst his rising and unwanted arousal.

 

“Thor.”

 

Loki’s eyes snap open, and there, of course, ever vigilant, is his father.

 

“Bored of the show, father ?” Loki snarls, voice hoarse. “Not enough for you?”

 

“Silence your slave, Thor, or I will have him gagged.”

 

For a moment, Loki cannot breathe.

 

Of everything he expected to lose, his name was not among them. He was not Loki anymore, not to his father. No, to his father he was simply  _ slave _ .

 

“Silence, or the gag?” Thor grips his face again, forcing Loki’s eyes from their father and toward him.

 

“Slaves do not choose, my son,” Odin says. “You must accustom yourself to making these decisions for him.”

 

Thor looks strangely conflicted for a moment, which is a rather strange place to draw the line, really, seeing as Thor has three fingers buried in his brother’s ass. Loki wants to laugh.

 

In the end, Thor chooses the gag. Thor bends to fetch it from the floor, leaving Loki’s ass strangely empty as he does, and fastens it once more around Loki’s face. It takes a while to get it on, Loki struggles so hard against it. In the end, Thor has to hold him by the throat to get him to stop shaking his head. Loki glares at him as the gag is sealed around his face.

 

It is always terrifying to be robbed of speech.

 

Thor goes over to Odin then, and Loki watches as he retrieves the vial of oil that Odin had taken earlier. Odin clasps Thor by the arm, for a moment. He looks at his son, and something in his expression must bolster Thor’s resolve, for he straightens, and turns towards his brother.

 

Loki knows what is coming next.

 

His struggles renew, futile, in vain, but he has to try. Fear trickles through his veins, icy cold and boiling hot in the worst way. He wants to be sick, but knows he will choke if he throws up in the gag. He wonders if it is less dignified to choke to death on his own vomit, or to be raped into enslavement by his brother.

 

It is not a choice Loki gets to make.

 

He hears Thor untie his breeches. He hears him pull his cock out from the leathers, and the slick sound of oil being smeared over it. The excess on Thor’s hand he rubs on Loki’s hole. Ever the thoughtful one, Thor.

 

He feels Thor crowd against his back, and Loki pulls so hard against his restraints that he feels blood begin to trickle down his forearm. He tries to close his legs, tries to shut his brother out, but he can’t. He can’t do  _ anything _ .

 

He makes a pathetic sound when Thor rubs the head of his cock against Loki’s ass. It feels so big, how can it be so big. It will never fit inside him. It simply isn’t possible.

 

“Relax, or this is going to hurt,” Thor says. “It is your choice.”

 

_ Your choice. _

 

Can that really be what he is reduced to? To have all autonomy, individuality, identity stripped from him, and for the only choice left to him to be whether he will make his own rape easier for himself?

 

Thor pushes the head of his cock inside, and Loki  _ breaks _ .

 

He laughs, around the agony. He jerks and thrashes and sobs against the pain and the violation of it, but all the while Loki laughs. He thinks he must have finally gone insane, properly this time. There is no going back from this.

 

He lets Odin watch, as Thor bottoms out inside him. He meets the old man’s eyes, and he forces Odin to see him. He does not look away, not when Thor starts to pull back out, grunting hot and heavy in Loki’s ear, not when he starts to thrust back in, edging his cock deeper and deeper with each stroke.

 

The pain begins to fade, as Loki’s adjusts to the intrusion. Perhaps most horrifyingly of all, it starts to feel good. Loki can feel the stretch down to his toes, he can feel the fullness in his throat, but the pressure is teetering on the dangerous side of perfect, and Thor’s massive cock batters his prostate mercilessly on every pass. It does not help when Thor, in his magnanimity, reaches around and once more grabs a hold of loki’s cock. It is inelegant, but it does not take much.

 

As quickly as that, Loki starts to feel pleasure.

 

Belatedly he thinks that it must be some of the magic in the binding, penetrating his mind and forcing this false euphoria, eradicating the futile thoughts of resistance and replacing them categorically with  _ want _ . But Loki doesn’t care, as reason and thought and rage fade away, all Loki cares about is how good it feels to be fucked. 

 

Thor is not gentle, when he finds his pace it is hard and fast and deep on every pass. He grabs a hold of Loki’s hips, uses them as a handle to pull Loki back against him. The force of their bodies colliding rocks Loki to the tips of his toes on every battering thrust.

 

Loki is making shameless sounds into his gag, he knows. He is moaning, like a filthy, wanton whore, beginning unintelligibly for his brother to fuck him harder, faster, for more, more,  _ more _ .

 

Odin watches it all, hands clasped behind his back, looking down his nose like he is so very far above it all. But Loki knows him, now. Clarity settles amidst the haze of lust and pleasure and it feels so very satisfying, even in the last moments of his freedom, to know that he has seen his brother, his  _ father,  _ for the monsters they truly are.

 

In the end, Loki thinks, he was never the worst of them at all.

 

He can feel the magic of the binding beginning to take a hold. He has always been sensitive to magic, and this spell is not subtle. It winds itself down into his very core, binding deep down in places he can’t hide from it. It settles onto him like a second skin, and the whole world feels sluggish with it, even as the pure euphoria of it begins to overwhelm him.

 

He knows that the moment Thor comes inside him, it will trigger Loki’s own orgasm, and the bond will be sealed. He knows this, he doesn’t know how, but he does. And he  _ wants  _ it.

 

He shouts his brother’s name into the gag, desperate for Thor to come. He wants it, he wants it inside him. He wants it filling him up, stuffing him full. He wants Thor to breed him like a whore. He wants to be made to take it, to be made Thor’s for the rest of eternity, to be meant for nothing more than  _ this  _ for the rest of his days. The last parts of himself that want to fight against it, that would deny the totality of Thor’s ownership, are burned away from their very root. 

 

Nothing will ever compare to the way it feels when Thor finally comes inside him. Loki’s entire world grounds to a halt, and a feeling more exquisite than any sensation Loki has felt in all his long life washes over him. It feels like being rearranged, pulled to pieces and stitched together differently, everything that made him who he was gone, forgotten, unimportant, to the need to feel his brother inside him, taking pleasure in the body that he now owned. 

 

When Thor pulls out, Loki can feel his seed dripping down his thigh. The thought upsets him. He wants it back inside. He grunts into the gag, but he is ignored. Thor laces himself back into his pants and goes over to their-- his father. Odin hands him a silver collar, and Thor turns to Loki. He pulls his head back with a sharp tug to his hair, and fits the collar around Loki’s neck. It snaps shut, glowing bright as the metal fuses together.

 

It feels like completion. It feels right.

 

Loki doesn’t remember why that thought should be wrong.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Got a bit messy at the end there DEADLINES ARE SCARY


End file.
